


Night Terrors

by Anonymous



Category: Hellraiser (Movies)
Genre: Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 04:09:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10959354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Frank Cotton has always tried to get his kicks however he can, with whomever he can. His brother doesn't get a free pass.





	Night Terrors

Ordinarily Larry slept like a log but when he was sick everything was over-sensitive. He started awake toward the witching hour, when Julia got up from bed. He watched her go from the corner of his eye. Too sore to roll over. His back ached and his head throbbed, and when he did doze off he had vivid technicolor nightmares he couldn't remember.

He woke up again as the bed shifted. He still felt badly. He wished she would comfort him.

"Jules?" he asked weakly into the darkness.

"Jules had to step out for a bit," a dry familiar voice returned.

"Frankie?" Only after the words left his mouth did he remember that there was no Frankie any more, only Frank.

His eyes opened unto darkness.

"You got it," the voice said.

Beneath him the bed creaked, and though he couldn't see he felt Frank leaning over him.

"Did you..." he started to ask before a heavy damp hand pressed down over his mouth.

"Mm-mm. No words."

His head felt thick and cottony and he felt Frank pull the blanket back from his chest. He was wearing nothing underneath the covers. Everything felt too cold and rough against his sore sore skin. The cold air rushed in and knocked the air from his lungs. His fingers curled around the blanket and pulled it back.

Frank laughed a low gravely laugh. "It's me, Larry. No need to be shy."

Dizziness set in. The world seemed to revolve squarely around his head and it hurt. He felt Frank's hand slide from his mouth, leaving a damp sticky trail on his face. He tried to raise a hand to wipe it away but Frank's hands caught his wrists and dragged them up above his head. He gasped as the cold iron of the headboard struck the back of his hands. He went to move his legs but Frank's weight pinned his thighs. The struggles were fruitless but half-hearted.

One of Frank's hands released his wrists and traced its way down the tender flesh inside his arm, through the tufts of hair on his underarm. It squeezed at his chest and side. Gently at first. Then tighter... and tighter...

A whimper of pain escaped his throat and at last Frank eased up. The blanket slid over his sore achy breasts and his stomach, coming to rest at his waist.

The cold air was full on him now. All he could focus on was breathing.

Frank put a hand to his stomach, pushing the buildup of fat back and forth. Larry felt sick to his stomach. Something burned at the back of his throat. He closed his eyes against the darkness. Fingers bit into the soft exposed flesh. He ran his tongue over his chapped lips and tasted blood. Or thought he tasted blood--his face, his sinuses felt thick with mucus and it was hard to taste.

The bedsprings groaned as Frank shifted up onto his knees. The hand on his stomach dug in, stabbing into his belly as it dragged the blanket back past his waist. He shivered. "Why..."

And the cold damp fingers bit into his penis.

He grunted in surprise and the fingers tightened.

"Ah-ah," Frank said, his voice soft and too sweet. "What did I say?"

"You're hurting me..."

"Hush." Frank's voice sharpened like a knife. "Ain't your daughter sleeping a room over? You wouldn't want to wake her, would you?"

His mind was fuzzy but he could think of Kristy, sleeping in her own bed, and Kristy was always a light sleeper. He closed his eyes against the darkness.

"That's better," Frank purred. One of his nails scratched along the side of the shaft and Larry gritted his teeth.

"What d'you want?" he mumbled.

"We'll get to that."

He was still soft, too sick to even think about getting hard. Whatever happened he would have to let happen. He let his head loll on the pillow. This was nothing compared to...

Abruptly Frank let go of his wrists and grabbed at his waist, twisting it and digging at his hips. What was it he wanted? Slowly, painfully, he rolled to his side, but Frank pawed at him with both hands now. He was pushed to his stomach. His arms felt weak and rubbery, and when he tried to raise himself up he fell back to the bed. Frank's full weight came down on him, crushing out whatever was left of the air in his lungs. Beneath him the bedsprings seemed to scream and he thought of Kristy in the next room.

Now he could feel Frank's lower half against him, damp and cold and sticky as everything else, but--different this time--he couldn't feel the weight of an erection. Couldn't feel anything.

Before he could wonder Frank was up again, jerking at his hips with those viscious nails, pulling them up. He tried to raise up again on his arms and again he fell. Something sharp ached in his lower back. He buried his face in the thin pillow beneath his head. If this was what it came to he would do it. There was no point in protesting.

Frank jerked his hips up off the bed and he managed to get his knees under him if nothing else. Frank pressed tight against him and slipped a hand under his stomach, feeling lower and lower until his fingers closed again around his dick. Again the world seemed to be spinning. He bit down into the pillow to muffle a moan.

Always, always Frank had been cruel. But this time he was slow, deliberate and he was, not tender, but precise. As he stroked the sharp jagged nail of this thumb rubbed at the underside of his penis. His throat, already sore, felt so dry he could barely breathe.

When at last he started to go hard Frank let out a cold humorless laugh and he was surprised at how deeply that laugh cut him. He tried to raise his head and get some little glimpse of his brother but he felt so weak already and Frank's weight held him down. The cold air seemed to burn at his skin and only Frank's damp flesh against his kept him from fainting. He dug the fingers of one hand as deeply into the pillow as he could, and with the others he clung to the iron headboard.

With his free hand Frank dragged his jagged nails over Larry's belly, down and down until they could go no farther. For the briefest of moments his nails left the skin and Larry couldn't tell what he did until the nails were there, suddenly, digging into the head of his dick.

He wailed before he could control it and he tried to muffle it with the pillow as best as he could. His penis was beginning to leak. It would be over soon, he hoped.

"Come on," Frank grunted. His hips bumped against Larry's. "Show me you still got it in you."

A pocket of hot air burst from his throat but he could not tell if he had vomited or not. He felt so cold and so sick and so hurt but was so far gone he didn't realize he was crying until Frank growled at him to stop.

"Shut the fuck up," he hissed. "What do you want me to do, go up your ass with no lube?"

Whatever it was about those words the pressure inside him burst and he came in a few short, strangled moans. The blood seemed to rush back from his head. He teetered for a moment on the edge of consciousness, but Frank kept working his penis and ultimately the pain and the exhaustion was too much. He faded into oblivion.

* * *

When he awoke in the morning his body was sore, even more so than it had been when he'd laid down to sleep. Beside him Julia stirred, climbed from bed with the bedsprings howling after her. For a long time he lay on his back, hand resting gingerly against his belly, until he finally worked up the courage to draw back the covers.

There was a damp spot beneath him on the bedsheets and a single smear of blood across his belly but that was all.

By the time Julia returned from the bathroom he'd stripped the bed down to the bare mattress. "I threw up," he told her, knowing she would never look too closely into that.

"How'd you sleep?" she asked him.

"Alright, I suppose. You?"

"Well enough."

"Where did you go last night?"

She looked at him strangely.

"I woke up at some point and you were gone... or at least I thought you were."

"No, I spent the whole night in bed. You must have been having a dream," she said, and he was glad to agree.

But all the same he spent that night downstairs on the sofa, where at least he wouldn't be heard.


End file.
